10 – Battle for the rock
Ceryse
Her nights were growing increasingly restless. At times, it would be thoughts of her children keeping her up. At others, the death of her uncle kept her awake. When she did sleep, it was briefly, and troubled. Recurring nightmares kept her awake. They came so often now, that the visions refused to leave her alone. She saw them every time she closed her eye, even when she was awake. Her dead husband's cold, lifeless eyes glared out at her. He opened his dead mouth, cold lips trembling, and let out a howling scream. Laughing harshly, he hissed at her, in a cold voice not his own. His lilac eyes flashed blue for a terrifying moment.
"It's your fault I'm gone. You should have stopped the boy from spending time with Tyrion." She always shook her head, wishing she could reach out and hold him, begging for his forgiveness. Maybe it was her fault, she had begun to muse. If she had kept Daeron from developing such a close relationship with Tyrion, John wouldn't have been in King's landing. After John, there was always Lucarion. He merely glared at her, tear tracks running down his face. He clutched a dead Rhaenyra to his chest, and turned and left her. The first time she had seen them, blood running from her baby girl's mouth, she had let out a terrified scream, waking up the entire castle. That had led to painful 're-education'. Her youngest son and daughter were replaced by Oberyn, promising pain for all Lannisters. Next, the Martell gave way to Melissa's voice.
"Bethany never would have betrayed our family. It's because of you, Ceryse. You and your son, with his ridiculous ideals." The voice disappeared, and, despite herself, she felt hot anger rising from her core towards her oldest. Melissa was right, she found herself thinking. Everything that had happened to this family was because of Daeron. The boy had always been rash and impetuous. That thought had brought her to tears, and she had whispered over and over for her boy to forgive her. The last had been Daeron himself. He had been standing proudly straight ahead, staring at something she couldn't see. They stood in the red keep throne room. Lords stood all around them, and the high Septon stood before her son. He smiled nervously towards her. She watched as the Ceryse in the dream hugged the boy tightly, whispering softly in his ear. Although she could not hear the happy pair, she somehow knew what was being said.
"I'm so proud of you, and I know this is what you've wanted for so long, my baby boy". Dream-Daeron beamed back, relaxing into her embrace. He glanced over dream-Ceryse's shoulder, and, seeing what he had been waiting for, he released her, smiling towards the throne room doors. She followed her dear boy's gaze, taking in the sight of a beautiful, radiant young woman walking towards the three on the dais. She could see the intense emotions blazing in her son's eyes, and, despite herself, it always made her smile. She couldn't see the girl's face, but somehow, she got the feeling that her son's joy wasn't one-sided. Then, as soon as it had been given to him, Daeron's happiness and hope was dashed, as it always was in the dreams. Two figures stepped forwards from the crowd; her father and Bethany. The girl sneered at her brother, as Tywin seized the other young woman. Daeron tried to rush forward, held back as he was by a kingsguard who had transformed into Aegon.
Bethany, her face flickering between that of the young Alleryon and Ceryse's own, spoke coldly to her brother. Her voice was sharp. "You took away our victory. Now, baby brother, watch, as I take away your hope!" then, even as her brother screamed out in his agony, begging for her to take him instead, she drove the dagger forwards, piercing the other woman's heart. When she turned around, as it had been every other time, the face sneering at Daeron and Ceryse was her own. Her son glared harshly, strangling the life from Aegon 'Targaryen'. Ceryse-Bethany and Tywin vanished in a veil of black and crimson smoke, even as Daeron ran towards where they had been standing moments before. He cradled the dying girl in his arms, tears streaming freely down his face.
"Please, gods no. not this, never this! Don't take her away from me. I can't do this without her," the visions always faded there, but she still heard her son's last, almost bitter sounding words, "I love her". That had been the worst of it all. What had been the most painful, had scared her the most, was not the death itself, but Daeron's reaction to it. She had never seen her son react with such visceral emotion. Somehow, she knew, that if he ever truly loved someone that much, and lost her, he would be worse than Joffrey. Worse even than her father after her mother's death. Every house in Westeros would feel the same fate as the Reynes of Castamere. She prayed what she had seen never came to pass. She never wanted to fear her son again.
Soldiers strode into her chambers, signalling for her to follow them. Sighing, ready for it all to be over, she did as she was bid. She needed to rid her mind of such thoughts, she knew. Her daughters still had need of her.
Stannis
He glared at the parchment in Ser Davos' hands, as if it had affronted him personally. The king's hand stared imploringly at him, desperate for him to take it. Considering the raven scroll for a few moments, he snatched it from the other man's hands. He read over Daeron Alleryon's words, forced to admit to both the boy's point, and his eloquence.
To Stannis Baratheon, lord of Dragonstone, and rightful lord of Storm's end
Lord Stannis, or - as you prefer to be known- your grace; I know that the two of us are enemies, and you have no interest in my words. However, I know you to be a man of honour, justice and duty, as was my lord father. In this vein, I ask, in show of good faith, that you consent to send his remains – such as they are – to Riverrun. I would consider it a personal favour, and my siblings and I would thank you for the chance to cremate my father in the way of our Valyrian ancestors.
Daeron Alleryon, third of his name, lord of house Alleryon and rightful king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men
Stannis stared at the parchment. The boy had presented his case well and there was no reason not to give Alleryon what he had asked for. He made no move to reject his hand's notion. Seeing this, Ser Davos stepped forwards slightly as he glanced at him almost nervously. The knight seemed to choose his next words with care, as he had previously suggested to the other man.
"Your grace," he began, his usual bravado returning as he found his footing once more, "surely there's nothing wrong to be said for giving the boy his father's corpse. The man did you know wrong, as far as I can see". This incurred Stannis' rage, and he turned to glare stonily at his hand. Davos stood his ground, and Stannis was once again forced to begrudgingly respect him.
"Done me no wrong," the king spat at the onion knight as his glare intensified, "need I remind you his last words were treasonous? He declared his son to have a right to the throne! To my throne, which I paid for in blood! What has Daeron Alleryon ever done to earn that seat?" Stannis gestured to the iron throne over his shoulder and tossed the note away turning his attention entirely towards his once loyal banner man as he did so. As usual the knight hardly seemed impressed by his king's tone or the look on his face.
"Your grace, it may well indeed be true that he declared his son to be the rightful heir. But he did what he thought was best for his family at the time. He knows the best way for his children to survive is for them to take that seat. And I have to believe you aren't the only honourable high lord in Westeros, your grace. Now here there's a high lord showing just that, and you won't even consider repaying him in kind. Now forgive me your grace – I'm not a learned man and I haven't been a lord for wrong. But it seems to me, if a traitor lord is willing to show respect to an enemy, and the lord of the seven kingdoms isn't it doesn't say much good for the king". Stannis glanced at the crumpled up piece of parchment, than back at his hand. He nodded warily, turning his attention towards the throne; he fell heavily into its embrace.
"Have the maester sew his father's head back onto the body, and have it sent to Riverrun for him. Your right, the least I can do is to show my enemy some respect. I'll let them burn the body; gods know I would have wanted the same thing". Davos smiled respectfully and bowed his head. The onion knight turned from the room to carry out the orders and left Stannis to his thoughts. What was happening to him, that he would so easily forget his honour? He didn't want to admit it but it had all started with the arrival of the red woman. He sighed, determined to decide the best course on that front later. For now he held a dangerous lord of the west in the black cells below his feet. He needed to decide what he was going to do with him. Executing him would certainly send a message but it might send the wrong one to his own bannermen. Most of them despised him for what he had done to his brother. He knew it and they knew it. Killing a powerful lord might shake their confidence further, with the idea they could be next up to the block having to be a real possibility in their minds. Sending such a dangerous man off to the wall would not be far enough. The best bet might be to send him as far from the realm as possible although he wasn't sure whether Essos was such a good idea either. He would have to think of something to do with him, and soon.
Tobias
The ride to the golden tooth was a solemn one. All the men knew that they would soon be riding for battle once more; none knew if they would be riding to their deaths. Tobias had been forced to become a man on the battlefield. He had learned much during their campaign for the Westerlands. Seeing soldiers dying around him had taught him that there was little glory in war. Daeron's disastrous initial command had taught him not to trust without question. In short war had become his nurse maid, teaching him vital lessons. in the end, their campaign in the south had petered out rather without much excitement, he had thought; although he was no longer ungrateful for that fact. Upon their arrival at Crakehall, they had found the banners already struck. The garrison had surrendered without a fight, and handed their lords over to them, already bound. The commander of the force had stated his lack of interest in commiting more of his men to die for a lost cause. Especially after Stannis had imprisoned lord Tywin and executed their bastard 'king' in taking the capitol. The capture of the old lion and the death of his grandson had been music to their ears, although they were sorely grieved to learn the capitol had been seized. Now, they were making haste to join their force to those of Robb and Daeron, who had completed their own tasks, and were now waiting to march on the rock itself.
Tobias smiled at the thought. Soon, they would, gods willing, achieve that which no army in living memory had managed; the fall of Casterly Rock. More importantly they would eliminate house Lannister, and thereby take one step closer to placing Daeron on the iron throne and ending the war. He would be grateful for the chance to catch a break after the constant warring. It did not feel good to watch men fight and die any more, although he still took some pleasure from the fall of his enemies as he knew it meant they were closer to their desired victory as each one fell or surrendered. And now, they had a real chance of securing a major victory. The thought swelled his heart as he rode beside his father.
He wondered if the older man ever felt disillusioned with what they must do, but he was unsure of how to ask him. Considering everything he knew of his father he doubted it. Jason Ainsworth was a man of duty. His father had long served John Alleryon faithfully in all matters, mostly of a military vein. Now, with John's death, he had transferred that unwavering loyalty to Tobias' best friend. Growing up, Daeron had been everything Tobias had aspired to be. He had revered his friend's achievements at Casterly Rock against the Greyjoys. Now that he had seen combat first hand, and witnessed the mistakes his king was capable of making, Tobias had changed his mind. He still admired Daeron, although he would never again take his abilities – or faults – for granted. They were still best friends, but Tobias knew he no longer envied his friend. He would never want a crown for himself. It seemed a terrible burden. The idea of warfare no longer appealed to him either, and he wondered if Daer still felt excitement when he fought. Somehow, just as he doubted his father felt wary of war, he doubted Daeron took pleasure from it. That had never been the other boy's way. Daeron would approach the war with as little feeling as possible, so as to avoid falling into the trap of letting the horror consume him. Tobias just hoped his friend would come out of it with his honour and sense of empathy in tact.
His father turned to smile at him, and Tobias felt pride swell inside of his chest. His father nodded, and turned his head back towards the front. After a moment, he spoke and Tobias felt shock at the honesty his father offered. "you know," he stated plainly, smiling with a wariness he had never seen on Jason's usual calm – even cold – features, " I always hoped you'd never have to experience this butcher's work. War that is," he explained further at his son's strange look. Tobi nodded to show he was still listening. Turning his head back towards him, his father placed a hand on his shoulder.
"That does not mean I am not proud of you. You have acquitted yourself with honour son, and you fought bravely. You can be proud of the effort you have applied". Tobias Ainsworth stared in shock after his father as the older man rode on ahead. Shrugging, he grinned as he realised that things didn't always have to be as he assumed. He wondered what other surprises there might be ahead.
Lucarion
They had arrived back at the Golden Tooth a few days before hand. Lucarion had done his best to avoid his brother in that time. It wasn't out of fear, or even grief. He was angry with Daeron, for his mishandling of the battle with Tywin. He had cost them thousands of men, and almost cost them all their lives. From what he had heard, the other Alleryon had been prepared to pay just that for his victory. No for his glory. It was disgusting, as far as he was concerned. And the worst part was that Tyrion – their uncle who always made sure his own siblings knew when they were wrong, had stood by him. None of it made sense to him. Although, he mused bitterly to himself, it made a certain sick kind of sense. His brother had always been treated like a god. He had heard the whisperings for years. They all said he was some great hero. Aegon the conqueror, reborn again n the modern age. The whispering had only gotten worse after he lamed Victarion Greyjoy. For a long time he had hated his older sibling growing up. The younger Alleryon brother, sighed to himself. He knew a large part of his hate had been born of jealousy. With his Lannister eye colour and younger Lucarion had never received as much praise and adulation. He had always lived in the other boy's shadow. Lucarion had thought they might have found common ground when the one man they both respected had died. But now, his hate was born of something far more pressing. No one seemed yet to realise what was really at stake. His father was dead, it was true. But his mother and younger sisters were not.
Ceryse and the twins yet lived. But if Daeron kept taking risks like that, they wouldn't be. He glared out over the battlements. He had no intention of losing his mother so his older sibling could play hero on the front. At least Tywin could no longer humiliate him for his ego. The news that the Lannister army had fallen in the east had inspired celebration amongst the Stark bannermen. This had been eclipsed only by the announcement of Joffrey's death and grandfather's capture by Stannis' forces. Lucarion himself wasn't sure how he should feel about that. Half of his family tree were Lannisters after all. The Half Daer and even Tyrion seemed to have forgotten. And, more importantly, their mother was Tywin's daughter and aunt Cersei's sister. How would she feel about her sister's death? Did anyone else really care? He supposed it didn't really matter to them. All his brother and Robb Stark seemed concerned with was the upcoming siege and whether or not to send Stannis a gft along with the praise they were showering on him.
He avenged your father, a voice in the back of the boy's head sounded. Lucarion sighed, pushing it down. He knew Stannis hadn't been fighting to take the iron throne for John's sake. That, he mused, was what he and Daer were now united in. though, now, he even found himself wondering about that. After all, Lucarion knew, their father was dead. He had been avenged, although not by them. And still, his brother had given no sign that he intended to put aside his crown. A crown you wanted him to take up, the same rebellious inner voice reminded him once more. The heir to house Alleryon snorted bitterly. Whatever the case, and whatever they had started it for, it was now clear that the brothers were fighting this war for entirely different purposes.
All he wanted now his father's killer had been brought to justice was to get his mother and siblings back. Melissa and Daeron did not seem to understand that. Melissa he was hardly surprised at. She was not Ceryse's child. It was his brother he found repulsive. All he cared about was Daenerys. He had shown no concern for anyone else. It was a noble cause of course. Lucarion loved his foster sister but he just wished the others would acknowledge that their own blood relations existed, and were perhaps more important than she. Of course he could understand his brother's urgency; Daer, he felt sure, was still hoping his 'little dragon' would decide to embrace her own heritage, and unleash her fire and blood. There was still a part of his brother, he knew deep down, did not want to be king. A part of Daeron that would do anything to avoid the iron throne. Even sacrifice the girl that – for as long as Lucarion could remember – the oldest of John and Ceryse's children had seen more as a sibling than Lucarion himself. That stung more than anything else. After all there had been a time, long ago now, when he had unconditionally loved his older sibling. He remembered watching from the side lines as Daer and Dany played together. Remembered the resentment he felt towards her – towards them both – take root. He sneered bitterly. Whether she had intended to or not, Daenerys had taken all his brother's time, and inevitably made Lucarion hate him because of it.
He glanced down as he saw the third host approaching the walls. Sighing, the young heir turned and made his way back into the castle. They would be on the march soon enough.
Tyrion
The hand of the king snorted to himself as he watched the commanders riding ahead. Lucarion was still arguing against the plan, which had been devised by Robb and Daeron, improved by Tyrion's knowledge of the castle, and approved of by the rest. The boy was acting like a petulant child, and reminding him eerily of Joffrey. He didn't like the thought of that. They needed to stand together, now more than ever. And Daeron and Lucarion's personal conflict threatened to tear them all apart. And then where would his sister and nieces be? That was also a problem they would have to deal with, and soon Tyrion mused. During the strategy meet, Lucarion had blatantly accused Daeron of "forgetting who his real family were" in his "ridiculous obsession with rescuing that Targaryen bitch" he "seemed to love more than his own blood". Tyrion had slapped the younger Alleryon across the cheek, and it had taken the combined efforts of Jon, Robb, Edmure, Jason and Tobias to hold Daeron back from opening his brother's throat. Tyrion was genuinely concerned one of his nephews would meet with an 'accident' on the field. For now, he noted gratefully, the two ignored each other.
He knew that wouldn't last however; the two were both as stubborn as any of their Alleryon forbears, and, like Tyrion's own father, Daeron was brutal when challenged or insulted. Lucarion was more subtle, usually allowing his hate to fester. Tyrion was no fool; he knew that was what this spat was about. Lucarion hated Daenerys, for taking his brother. More importantly he hated said brother for letting her do it. They were in a delicate situation at the moment, and someone needed to address it. Tyrion carefully rode over to Lucarion's side coming to a halt before the boy. His nephew's green eyes pierced his own mismatched ones, and the boy snorted before turning away from him. Tyrion sighed at the petulance of children. Had he ever behaved like this?
"I'm sorry I hit you".
The boy grunted but otherwise ignored him. Tyrion rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was getting tired of having to deal with Lucarion and Daeron's attitudes. He glared at Lucarion, then at the older boy, who had glanced in their direction briefly before ignoring them once more. He turned back to his younger nephew, placing a hand gently on his arm. Lucarion turned to regard him once more. Tyrion smiled. At least one of them would listen to him still. "Tell me what's bothering you", he implored the young man. Lucarion sneered once more and shrugged the hand off. Tyrion clutched his horse tighter to avoid falling.
"you should know, Tyrion. You and 'his grace' refuse to even acknowledge my mother". Tyrion glared at the boy, and felt a strong desire to strike him once more. Ceryse was – apart from Jaime – the only one amongst his immediate family to treat him with any kindness. Learning she had been taken had felt like losing a part of himself. He had devised all sorts of deserving punishment for Bethany and her co-conspirators since he had discovered the treason. And to have this impudent cub suggest he didn't care had been worse than anything he had been forced to endure from Cersei and her brood. He sneered back at the boy
"Listen, Alleryon. Ceryse was my older sister a long time before she was your mother. If you want to behave like a petulant little bastard, that's fine. But I will get my sister back. Mark my words on that, boy", as usual, Lucarion remained silent as Tyrion turned to ride away. The dwarf paused to regard his nephew once more. "and I was wrong; I'm not sorry I hit you". He didn't bother waiting to see what the boy would say to that. Instead he rode over to Daeron and Jon. Seeing him approach, the two manoeuvred their mounts so that he could ride between them. The Lannister smiled at his nephew and the northern bastard. Daeron glanced at him, lines under his eyes.
"trouble with Luc?" he asked his uncle warily. Tyrion snorted almost derisively at his nephew's question In response, Daeron rose an eye brow. Tyrion sighed, glancing over at the young man in question before addressing his nephew's question. "that depends my dear boy," he began, shifting his weight in an effort to get comfortable, "if you consider the fact your brother hates us both and thinks we abandoned your mother as 'trouble'. If not, than no. we have no trouble with him". Tyrion watched as Daeron, glaring at his brother, rode over towards him. Something was said between the two brothers. Without much warning, Daeron drove his fist into his brother's jaw, sending him sprawling from the saddle. Tyrion and Jon glanced at one another in shock. The king rode back towards Tyrion's side, glancing offhandedly at the blood on his glove.
"waste of good leather", his nephew muttered, before pulling the glove off. He tossed it aside, and ignored their questioning glances. After a few moments, he spoke up.
"I told him to grow up and get over himself. Reminded him he wasn't the only one who cared about our mother. Tried telling him we'd get her back. The little shit turned around and said all I cared about was 'the dragon bitch'. So I hit him". Glancing at one another once more, Tyrion and Jon winced. The worse mistakes anyone could make with Daeron were to question his love for family, and insult Dany. Tyrion mused, almost impressed, by Lucarion's ability to make them both in one mistake. The boy's determination to drive his brother to violence seemed unbreakable at this stage. He couldn't help but admire the boy's belligerence. But now, he needed to push such thoughts aside. After a long ride, they were here. Casterly Rock loomed before them.
Daeron
They were met by a party from Lannisport, lead by Kevan's second son, Martyn. Daeron had met his cousin a few times, and found the Lannister boy to be amicable. Although, now, he supposed that was only because he had been heir to the truly gargantuan fortress which loomed before them. With Martyn were several soldiers and a Maester. The Lannister stared at Daeron and his companions. With him he had brought Jon, Edmure, Rob and his uncle. The boy spoke, though he had no doubt it was the maester's words. No Lannister would be prepared to hear terms, after all.
"King Daeron. Although you are a traitor, I would hear what you have to say. Choose your words carefully". Daeron couldn't help but his kinsman's attempt to be intimidating amusing. Glancing subtly at the chained man by his cousin's side, he nodded. Spurring his horse forwards to get closer, he gestured to Casterly Rock.
"My terms are thus: that fortress. You will surrender it to me, and swear fealty to your rightful liege, my uncle, Tyrion Lannister. My foster-sister, Daenerys, will be returned to me without question. Do this, and I will grant you Lannisport. But if you fail to heed my terms, than I will put Lannisport to the sword. I will crush your garrison, small as it is, and force you to submit. Think carefully cousin. The fates of every Lannister in Casterly Rock and Lannisport rest in your hands". Glancing at the maester, who was still considering the terms, Martyn rode forward. He glared at Daeron coldly.
"your sister and her Blackfyre pretender murdered my father. Here are my terms traitor. Bend the knee to me, in the name of your king, Joffrey of the houses Lannister and Baratheon, and I might speak for you when my uncle Tywin returns from the capital. As for the Targaryen princess; she shall remain here, under our protection, to ensure your good will". At that moment, Tyrion also moved towards them. He glanced, rather surprised, at Martyn. The younger Lannister turned towards him. Tyrion stopped.
"Haven't you heard, cousin? Lord stannis took king's landing. He executed my nephews, and even as we speak my father rots in the black cells. House Lannister's support for Joffrey must come to an end. If not we are lost. The Blackfyre pretender styles himself our king. Together we might be able to stop him and save my sister". Not for the first time, Daeron was grateful for his uncle. The speech seemed to give Martyn pause. If Joffrey was dead, and Tywin captured there was no point in continuing to oppose them. Perhaps they could win this without bloodshed after all. Then Martyn shook his head.
"you ask me to surrender? I won't have it. These are clearly vindictive lies, meant to throw me off for the battle, or convince me to submit. I will not." one of the lannister soldiers rode forwards until he was almost on top of them. He sneered at them, before turning to his fellows.
"look at this lads! The half-man and the incest-born valyrian half-wit! Maybe we'll have some fun with the boy's sist-" he was silenced by Daeron's sword severing his head from his shoulders. Glaring at his cousin, Daeron spat on the ground before the boy. He turned to address the Lannister men.
"touch my sister. That's what will happen". With that, he turned and rode from the parley. He smiled as he heard Tyrion's parting words.
"I guess that concludes negotiations, maester."
they had begun their assault as planned. They had decided that the best time to launch the attack was at nightfall, split into two armies. Daeron would lead the assault upon Lannisport with Jon and Jason. Tobias had accompanied them as his father's right hand man. Robb would take Casterly Rock, and officially knock house Lannister out of the war. The men had quickly managed to secure the walls and open the gates. Now he was moving through the city with his men, cutting down any soldiers who had refused to bend the knee. He had strictly ordered his men to leave the women and children living in the city alone. Daeron had made it known to all that rape by any man under his command would not be tolerated.
So far the battle was going well. He attributed it to the small number of enemy troops and the fact they had launched their assault upon the walls at night, when the enemy had expected an immediate attack, or for them to wait until morning. Their goal in attacking Lannisport was twofold; to capture and secure Martyn and the other Lannisters inside the city walls, and draw men away from the rock. To that end, they had taken more than half the army. Although Robb still had large enough numbers to ensure he could hold out in the event they failed.
Daenerys
She had been roused from her sleep by the shouts. Rushing to her window, Dany had seen the fires blazing in nearby Lannisport. She wondered what was going on, and moved to her door. She tapped on the wood to get the guard's attention. "what's going on down there?", she called. The guard's voice sounded back through the door.
"Lannisport is under siege. They're moving men down there to face the invaders". Silence once more reigned between the two. Dany was stunned. She could hardly believe an army had managed to get this far into the Westerlands. She wondered who was leading it. The most logical assumption was that it was the now large force sworn to Aegon and Bethany. She shuddered at the thought. Somehow she thought they would be worse than the Lannisters. She briefly allowed herself to entertain the notion it was Daeron and Lucarion, here to rescue her. The chances of that were slim, and rumours among the men were that Daeron had been killed in his defeat at his grandfather's hand. She had wept at the thought of her beloved foster-brother's death.
Turning back towards the window, she gazed out over the city sprawled below. She could see Lannister men running from the Rock to reinforce the defenders. No doubt Martyn Lannister would either make his way to the rock, or make for the harbour and abandon the west for the capitol. She wondered how close the Lannisters had been to achieving ultimate victory when this attack had occurred out of no where, to snatch it away from them. Aegon and his supporters must have hit Lannisport in an effort to weaken the Lannisters' power over the kingdoms. For the first time since being informed she was a hostage, Dany hoped for a Lannister victory. She didn't want to have to look at Bethany and this boy who called himself her nephew. The boy who spat on her brother's memory by aligning himself with the golden company. Didn't want to have to look into her foster mother's eyes and tell her there was a real chance Daer was dead. None of the horror felt real any more. She was convinced she could open her eyes and it would all be a dream. She glared out the window. The world had taken everything from her. That didn't mean she couldn't fight for what was left.
Jon
The plan had worked so far. Lannister soldiers were coming down from Casterly rock to meet them. He cut through a few men, and called over the din to Daeron.
"Daer, they're here. We've got them coming down here now!" Daeron turned towards him, and nodded to show he had heard what he had said. He called back over the sounds of battle, "i want you to go and find Martyn! Bring him and the others here. We'll handle this!" Jon nodded, and cut down the soldiers around him before running off to find the Lannisters. He ran trough the streets of Lannisport, heading towards the family estate. Throwing himself against a wall, he leaned carefully around the corner. A procession of Lannisters soldiers were escorting Martyn, his mother and his sister from the estate. Glancing around the city, he realised with a jolt of horror where they were going. The family, intending to escape the sack, were heading to the harbour. Glancing around, he carefully followed the procession, determined to catch them, but not draw to much attention before he was ready.
The procession reached the docks, and he lowered himself into a crouch. The captain gestured for men to watch behind them. No sooner had lady Lannister and her daughter stepped onto the boat, had he sprung forwards. He plunged his sword through one of the men, driving his dagger through the second one's skull. Martyn spotted him, shouting out. The men prepared to cast off, but it was too late. He was already cutting through them, moving from one to the next like a storm. The only thoughts flashing through his head in those moments were of Arya and his father. Justice for one, and fear for the other. He had often prayed she was safe, that she had escaped king's landing. Jon leaped onto the ship, cutting down the last soldier. He pressed the end of his blade against Martyn's neck. The young lannister rose his hands in an effort to placate him. Jon glared, and dragged him and the others at sword point from the ship. Tying their hands, he slid his sword away and – as gently as he could – lead the women and Martyn back to Daeron and the others.
when they got back to the Lannister estate, the men waiting for them wore Alleryon and Tully colours, and the stallion of Alleryon, dire wolf of Stark and salmon of lady Stark's Tully relatives flapped over the estate above them flew the three headed dragon and stallion that had become Daeron's personal colours. The soldiers acknowledged him, and took the prisoners from his custody. They directed him to Daeron, who had taken up residence in the main hall. He strode over to his friend, who grinned as he threw his arms around him. Jon hugged back, grateful they had both come out of the battle alive. He hoped the same could be said for his brother. Glancing around, he took stock of the situation. Although no one was dead, Jason was holding his arm, which had been cut during the fight. He nodded to Jon respectfully, who nodded back. Jon turned back to Daeron, Tobias standing beside their mutual friend.
"What's the plan now?" he asked, eager to get to Casterly Rock and make sure that Robb was okDaeron nodded slightly, before speaking.
"we'll be moving out in a few minutes. We're just catching ourselves before marching onto the Rock. We'll take the pass between Lannisport and the Rock, try and cut them off. Don't worry Jon. We'll get to Robb". Jon nodded, drawing his sword and holding it out. Daeron smiled slightly, before tapping blades with him.
Robb
The pain in his shoulder was unbearable. The bolt had pierced his mail, and blood was running down his side. Fortunately they had hit the wrong arm, and he could still fight. The battle had been a hard fought one. The assault on Lannisport had helped, reducing the numbers they had faced. The soldiers had all fought tooth and nail to defend the Rock however, as they had anticipated. Now, they were finally making progress. Northerners and Rivermen were beginning to drive the Lannister forces back. Soon, they would take the greatest fortress in Westeros. Despite the pain, Robb grinned at the thought. He slashed out, killing a Lannister man who had been charging towards him. Just then, he felt another bolt strike him, this one hitting closer to the centre. He winced, even as the Greatjon grabbed him from behind.
"your grace," the big man was saying, "we have to get you somewhere safe. We'll finish this for you". With the pain casting a haze over his mind, Robb didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he nodded slowly, as soldiers moved him carefully away from the battlefield. His last thoughts were of how he had betrayed Jon and Daeron, and the trust they had placed in him. They had been counting on him to take the Rock. And he had let them down.
Jason
Lannister soldiers fell around them as they cut their way towards the victory they had longed for. They were so close to the end, he could almost taste it. Tobias was fighting by his side. He had recently been impressed by his son and heir. He had never expected Tobi would be able to hold his own on a battlefield so well. War had never seemed like it would be his son's pursuit. The boy had always struck him as more of a lover than a fighter. But his heir had more than met the challenge. He could not have been more proud of him. Together, father and son fought side by side. Ahead of them fought Daeron and Jon snow. The two of them were like a fire storm, burning through the enemy lines. They were almost perfectly in sync, each defending the other as he hacked down a handful of Lannister men in a few seconds. It was impressive, even to a seasoned veteran like Jason. The lord of house Ainsworth had only encountered one man like it.
The one time in his life he had fought someone like Jon snow, he had been sure he would die. The only reason he was still alive was because Robert Baratheon had pushed him aside, and proceeded to cave in his opponent's chest. The most terrifying part about it all was that Snow might even be better than that man. Better than Rhaegar Targaryen. Pushing such memories from his mind, Jason just considered himself fortunate he didn't have to fight against Jon. It wasn't a fate he envied the Lannister men. Soon enough, they had pushed their way towards the top of the rock, poised to take it. The Lannisters fought even harder, distinctly aware what would happen if they lost. Led by Jon Umber, the Stark boy's host had pushed ahead of them, and soon, under sheer weight of numbers, the Lannister force would break. He turned to Tobias.
"You ready to finish these 'lions', son?", he asked his son, over the sounds of the fighting. His son nodded. Together they fought through towards Jon and Daeron, pushing forwards. Beside him, Tobias fought like a man possessed. He cut down four men one after the other, flipping a fifth over his shoulder, where he was finished off by a spear through the neck by a spear through the neck. Eventually he and Tobi were fighting back to back just behind Daeron. Tobias had been carefuly keeping the enemy off of both he and Jason, although he had failed to see the soldier coming from the side. Without thinking, Jason pushed him aside, driving the sword through his enemy's heart. The man drove his own blade through his belly.
He felt a shearing pain throughout his body. Pain racked through him, as he fell to one knee. As he pushed himself to his feet, and heard Tobi calling his name desperately, a crossbow quarrel pierced his throat, and, even as he heard their men letting out a great victory cry, he fell back into Tobias' arms. He heard Tobias desperately call his names. Felt his son's tears splashing against his chest. With his strength failing him, he gently lifted his hand, rubbing it through the boy's hair affectionately.
"I'm proud of you, Tobi", he whispered, just loud enough for his son to hear. He tried to pull the bolt out, felt Tobi desperately trying to stop him.
"Don't," his son begged, "it'll only make the bleeding worse. You'll die if you do."
"I'm going to anyway". As if to accentuate his point, he coughed, and felt blood splatter his chin. Tobi was even more desperate now. Jason looked at him, unstrapping his sword, with it's dragonbone hilt. The blade was simple steel, but it had been carefully looked after, as an heirloom of their house. He handed it to him.
"you are our lord now, my son", he told him, simply. He slowly felt his eyes closing. Tobi shook his head, his own eyes shining.
"I'm not ready father".
"You are son, you are". There, his head in his son's lap, Jason, lord of house Ainsworth, died.
Daenerys
She'd seen the banners flying over Lannisport and herd the fighting outside. She had to try and escape, get down to Daeron. She had to let him know that she was alive. Let him know that she was still okay. He had come to rescue her. She wanted to see him, to reassure herself that he too was okay. She kicked on the door, hoping the guard would come to see what was happening. She got her wish when he opened the door, glaring at her. Thinking fast, she drove her knee into him, driving him to the ground. Grabbing a knife from his belt, she cut his throat. She ran from the room, stabbing the guard on the other side of the door in the neck as she went. Running through the halls, she called for help. She could hear voices coming from near the entrance. She ran in their direction. Nearing the entrance hall, she could make out who was talking, and what they were saying.
"We have to find her, Tyrion. I need to know she's ok". She heard Daeron's calm voice, although there was an undercurrent of urgency she hadn't heard from him before. With a jolt, she realised he was talking about her. She doubled her pace, calling his name as she went. She wouldn't feel safe and complete until she was with him again. She didn't care how he felt, or what these feelings meant about her. He still hadn't heard her. Tyrion was speaking.
"We should go with Jon. We need to make sure that his brother is alright. He almost died for you, you can find out about Dany later".
"Daeron", she shouted, "I'm in here, I'm okay."
"Tyrion," he began, "did you hear that?"
she barged into the entrance hall, smiling at the stunned look on Tyrion's face. Daeron was staring at her, smiling at her. Without hesitation she ran towards him, throwing herself into his waiting arms. She cried into his shoulder.
"I thought we'd lost each other", she whispered against his neck.
Daeron
The fighting was done, and they had taken the Rock. The only thing on his mind was finding Dany. That was all he cared about. He strode into Casterly Rock for the first time in four years, Tyrion following behind him. He smiled down at his uncle as the smaller man gazed around his ancestral home. He grinned at his uncle.
"so," he began as the other man turned his head towards him, "how does it feel to be lord paramount of the Westerlands?" the older man grinned up at him as he finished his inspection of the entrance hall. His uncle gestured for him to kneel down. As he did, he felt Tyrion's arms winding around him, and heard his uncle's voice in his ear.
"you have no idea how good it feels, your grace". The once teasing tile brought a slight grin to his face, as he thought of all they had achieved in such a short time. For the first time in this war, he felt as though victory could be reached. He knew in his heart that they would need more houses to join them to defeat their many enemies. The most pressing of which were of course the boy styling himself Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, and his own half sister. If they could not defeat them, the Westerlands and the Riverlands would burn. They would need to act fast if they wanted to stop him.
He pulled himself up, glancing purposefully around the hall. He made to move further into the Rock, before his uncle stopped him. The smaller man stared up at him.
"Where are you going?" he demanded. For a moment, Daeron glared down at him, before his expression softened. He told the other lord his intentions.
"I'm going to get Dany, uncle". His uncle lowered his head, letting out a slight sigh.
"Daer, we don't even know she's alive. It's likely she was killed when we attacked". Daeron glared at his uncle once more, shaking his head.
"We have to find her, Tyrion. I need to know she's ok"
his uncle closed his eyes. The little man seemed exasperated. "We should go with Jon. We need to make sure that his brother is alright. He almost died for you, you can find out about Dany later".
Daeron shook his head, but made to follow his uncle. Than, suddenly, he stopped, turning back towards the double doors. There was a voice calling from the other side. "
Daeron", he heard Dany shouting, "I'm in here, I'm okay."
"Tyrion," he began, grinning like a mad man at his uncle "did you hear that?"
she barged into the entrance hall, smiling at the stunned look on Tyrion's face. Daeron stared at her for a few moments beaming at her . Daeron held out his arms, gesturing for a hug. Without hesitation she ran towards him, throwing herself into his waiting arms. She cried into his shoulder.
"I thought we'd lost each other", she whispered against his neck. He smiled down at her reassuringly. He kissed her forehead. She gazed up at him, teary lilac eyes piercing his own. He grinned at her. Even after everything she had been through she was as beautiful as ever.
"I told you little dragon, I'll always protect you". She grinned back at him, tightening her hold around his waist.
"promise?"
and with that, uncaring of Tyrion and the soldiers watching, and Jon standing in the doorway, he kissed her.